First they said he was obsessed then they said he was crazy. But they would never know what it was like, to have that face in the back of his mind. That vicious show of teeth, that crazed look in the eyes taunting him, telling him to do things. So he raised the cold steel high and heard her childish laughter as he brought it down on her head. The tale of the birth of a killer.

Okay, so this is my first original story. It's an idea I've had for a while now and hopefully its good. This story is a base that I'm creating for one of my fan fictions. Please enjoy.

Trauma

Prologue:

Craig Maxwell stood in a seemingly endless and narrow corridor. The walls discolored with the plaster peeling off, glowed with an eerie yellow light, thanks to a low watt naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, swinging back and forth slowly. Straight ahead was an old wood frame door. He walked up to it cautiously and hesitantly reached for the doorknob.

The door creaked open revealing nothing but darkness on the other side. A gust of wind came in through the door, making his skin prickle. A nauseating feeling took over and he started feeling claustrophobic. Craig took a step back only to feel something hard and cold press against his spine.

"Good night, Doctor" a smooth, low voice whispered in his ear. Craig turned just in time to see a flash of silver and pain exploded across his chest as he fell back and into the darkness.

Craig's eyes shattered open. It took a moment for reality to sink in as he tried to look around him. He could tell he bound to a chair, a cloth gag in his mouth. Scared out of his mind, he panicked. He tried to break free but the ropes didn't give. They only cut into his skin.

That's when he heard it. The sound of metal against metal. A harsh metallic sound, so sharp, his ears hurt. The dull throbbing in his head turned into spasms of sharp pain that seemed to slice into his head. He let out a muffled groan.

It was too dark; he blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness that surrounded him. He could now make out two figures across from him. A table between them. One of the figures was making a muffled sound that sounded as if said person was sobbing.

He felt a set of hands on his shoulder. He shivered; there was nothing comforting about the touch as they massaged his shoulders. He felt the hands slide around his shoulders; one gripping his shoulder while the other gripped his throat delicately as the person behind him leaned against him. He felt the harsh excited breath against his ear as a low, husky voice reached his ear;

"I'm glad you are up doctor. You are right in time for tea." A woman, the voice belonged to a woman.

How did he get into this? His thoughts were cut short as the woman behind him pulled away from him. Next thing he saw was a pale yellow light at the corner of his vision. The woman walked back to him with a candle and stood before him. Her face was hidden halfway but he could still make out the cold slash of a grin across her face, an unnaturally stretched smile; an evil mockery of a smile.

"Your family is here, but I'm really sorry that your dear Emma won't be joining us tonight." With that she set the candle down and he finally saw the two people from earlier. His eyes widened as he stared, he felt the bile rise in his throat, some of it trickled down the corners of his gagged mouth as he looked from his trembling wife, Karen to his 12 year old daughter, or what was left of her. His eyes flooded with tears as he realized what was going to happen. Karen's face was red and her eyes bloodshot and red rimmed. Her face glistened with tears as she desperately stared at him.

The woman walked back to the table and stood behind Karen and smiled at him.

"So, doctor, what will it be, Cake", she raised a meat cleaver to Karen's right shoulder, then shifted it to her left," or cookies?" A sickeningly sweet smile on her lips. He shook his head hard, desperately hoping she won't use it. His wife looked at him, panicking, her eyes widening in terror.

"You don't want them, well that's okay I like cookies better?"

She raised the cleaver.

Blood splattered across the table and his face as she brought it down on his wife.

Officer Jacob Mason was not happy. In fact, he was disgusted. He covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief as he prodded a bloody piece which looked suspiciously close to brain matter, with his foot. This was the seventh murder connected to this killer and all they had was that it was woman.. The murders were all done in the same way, she used an assortment of kitchen knives to slice and hack at her victims. There were no finger prints, no blood, nothing. The victims had no sort of connection to each other and there was no pattern in her choice of victims. That was what made it all the more difficult for them to catch her.

As of now, he stood in the basement of Dr. Craig Maxwell's house. Maxwell was a good guy with a family of three; a dashing man in his early thirties. But now the family was reduced to unidentifiable heaps of meat, blood and bones set up on three chairs surrounding a small table, set on which were three cups of tea and a plate filled with something, he would rather not know. It was a sick and twisted game that she played with her victims.

He was so lost in his musing that at first he didn't notice someone standing next to him. He turned to the young blonde. Nina Kale looked green and dizzy as she spoke in a subdued tone.

"She didn't even spare the dog." Mason wasn't surprised, not even a bit. He knew what this monster was capable of. Then he realized something, the dog was a full grown Doberman, he knew the dog was vicious and could have attacked her. He wanted to know if this was the same girl who had killed her mother and her neighbors from seven years ago. The patterns were similar and just maybe some things might become clearer. Maybe.

"Check if we have ourselves some DNA samples. I need some information... or I'll go mad."

Nina nodded and walked back as he looked away from the gore. Taking off his glasses, he sighed and rubbed his temples. And to think all he wanted to do was go home and sleep. He looked at his watch; 5:30 am. Marissa was going to kill him. He sighed again;

"I need a fucking drink."

To be continued...

I know this is short, but it makes it easier for me to update much faster. Thank you for reading.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.